A Conversation That Wasn't
by actmademoiselle
Summary: "Maybe she loved – you know, really really loved, with her heart outstretched on her hand, and someone hurt her? Maybe they broke her." Hermione and Harry ponder about Bellatrix, and what may have happened to her in the past. Set in the course of the 7th book, after Ron left them.


"I hope -"

Hermione stopped as suddenly as she started.

They were sitting on the opposite beds in the tent, with Harry trying to find _any_ information they could use in yet another one of the books they hadn't checked already. It has been two weeks with just the two of them, and Hermione was slowly calming down. He didn't notice wet stains on her sleeves anymore. She didn't suddenly rush out of the tent or tuck her pillow in the corner of the bed where she thought he couldn't see its dampness, or turn her face away so he wouldn't notice the tears forming in her eyes. She was dealing with it by herself and he didn't try to help her. Not since that time he decided to bring it up and say _something, _anything, but before he got a chance to say more than "Hermione, I.." she looked at him with her eyes set with that look that just told him to stop. For the last few days, though, she seemed a lot better. In this moment he caught himself holding his breath for what she will say. They didn't talk about it – about anything else than horcruxes and Death Eaters and Voldemort and food, really – and right now she started this sentence and these words escaped her and he sat there, motionless, after rapidly raising his head and looking at her. It was silly, to be honest. He knew it, and yet he didn't dare to move as she looked right into his eyes, her lips pressed into a thin line. And then she shifted uncomfortably in her position, and looked at the floor. He didn't.

"I hope," she started off again. "I hope she had someone. Loved someone. I guess that would make it easier."

This threw him off.

"Bellatrix." she said in a way of explanation, although it only confused him further. "I was just thinking about her and -" her voice trembled. "– and I know how everyone looks at her. I know how I look at her. I mean, they all have their roles. There's Malfoy next to the Dark Lord. And there's Bellatrix. She's the most dedicated, cruelest, maddest. But maybe," Hermione cleared her throat. "maybe she loved someone, all this time ago."

"I don't mean to excuse her actions." Hermione shook her head. "It's just.. I – I can't believe someone could just be born bad, you know? It's-It's not possible. Maybe-maybe she was hiding from others at school or were picked at, and it's her way of standing up? Maybe she loved – you know, really _really_ loved, with her heart outstretched on her hand, and someone hurt her? Maybe they broke her. Maybe she was young and smiling and her mind unformed and people shaped her with little let-downs, and pranks and making comparisons between the sisters. I just – I thought maybe there's more to the story, you know?"

Hermione lifted her head and looked at Harry. Amidst the anger and the understandable hatred for the woman there was also this thing in the corner of his eye that looked like understanding. Like he understood why Hermione needed to think this and that somewhere, under all these negative emotions, he also needed to think so. He also needed to create a web of maybes, just so the world would make a little more sense.

"Anyway," Hermione cleared her throat again and looked around for something to drink, and was about to stand up when Harry whispered.

"Maybe."

She looked back at him.

"I think," he raised his voice, so he was no longer whispering, but his voice was still trembling a little. Hermione sat back and listened to him in the quietness of their tent, his words immediately standing out. He was talking slowly, as if he tasted each word before saying it. He was visibly holding back.

"- think there was something, back in the days. Sirius told me –he said she got what was coming. And - they all say, I mean, not directly, but they all say her madness wasn't born in the Azkaban, or with her first kill or first Crucio. They seem to think something else entirely triggered it. Not even Voldemort, though maybe without him she wouldn't have a chance to manifest that part of herself. But he didn't cause it, I think. Maybe- maybe not."

Harry grew silent.

They didn't look at each other. He just focused his eyes on one particularly intriguing spot on the leg of his bed. Hermione studied her toes. The atmosphere in the tent was thick and she didn't even know why. It troubled her; the thought that someone lost was hurt in so many ways terrified her. How could you break someone that much? How could you break someone enough to drive them mad?


End file.
